I remember the day you adopted us. It was a fairly nice October day in 1992. We were holding a funeral service for Barky, the hamster, under the big oak tree by the creek in our back yard in Iowa. You showed up unannounced and did figure-eights around our legs as we laid Barky to rest. You followed us home like a puppy dog. You hung out on the front steps for three days eating the tuna the kids left for you. On the third day while I was cooking I saw a four-legged gray creature stroll across the kitchen floor. I yelled at the top of my lungs (kids’ bedroom was upstairs), “Hey, what’s this cat doing in the house?” Eric, then 6 years old, declared it was too cold outside and he begged to let kitty in. Uh, yeah, too late kid, you already did. It was a cold, raw, rainy day just before Halloween. How could I say no? It just took an open door and you were home. For the next 19 years.
I remember the days when you played Nintendo batting your paws to get at Mario and Luigi. You earned many nicknames. Mr. Sam Katze, Sammy, Samuel, Chester Cheeto, and my favorite, Samuel Satan Kitty. My sister Lynn gave you the last name because of the time you bit her on the ankle. I know you were pissed because we dared to go on vacation without you and left you home alone with Lynn tending to your needs. The name Chester Cheeto came from another time we went on vacation and Brian left a bowl of Cheetos in his room. We came home to piles of orange remnants all over the carpet from the Cheetos you consumed. You really did like people and didn’t like being left alone. Whenever the doorbell rang you were there to greet the company.
Speaking of your favorite foods, besides tuna, how about all the cornbread you consumed? Phil brilliantly thought he could cover the cornbread with saran wrap and keep your nose out of the pan. HA! You sure showed him over and over again that saran wrap was no challenge to keep you out of that delicious treat. How about the times I caught you stealing chicken wings and the kids’ pancake breakfast off the table? Oh, yes, we went around and around about you being on the counters. I could hear you slinking about the counters, yell from the other room, and hear you plop your butt down. I tried all the tricks to keep you off. Squirt guns, upside-down mouse traps covered with newspapers, sprays. Nothing worked. Even in your old age you still had the agility to hop up and look around for something delicious to eat.
We all thought you would live forever. We noticed the weight loss a few months ago but you had a good appetite until a few days ago. You knew it was time to go. I still wake up in the morning thinking I better get up and hand deliver your breakfast. After 19 years it is hard to change the routine. But you are in heaven now and we will all be together again some day. I hope God doesn’t mind you jumping up on his kitchen counters, eating cornbread and Cheetos, and stealing pancakes and chicken wings.
